


(He's a) Regular

by kazbrekkcr



Series: Spencer/Reader Oneshots [1]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, One Shot, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 17:51:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16791808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazbrekkcr/pseuds/kazbrekkcr
Summary: prompt: barista and person who has a ridiculous coffee order





	(He's a) Regular

**Author's Note:**

> use the interactivefics chrome extension for a better reading experience!

The door opens with a jingle and you smile reflexively. "Hi, Spencer," you call out, looking up just in time to see his (adorable) face come into view just past the espresso machines.

"Morning, Y/N," he replies in his soft, sure way.

You stop restocking cups and lids and make your way to the register. He stands in front of you, wearing his coat buttoned all the way to the top with a scarf wrapped around his neck and his hair flying every which way.

"The usual?" You ask while trying not to giggle.

"Seeing as how I only ever order, and therefore drink, one thing," he answers, "yes, the usual."

You ring up what has to be the most ridiculous order you've ever had to make in your life: a dirty cafe au lait (i.e. coffee with a shot of espresso) with 1/4 coffee, 1/2 steamed half & half, and 1/4 whipped cream, plus three pumps of vanilla syrup and mocha drizzle. You'd asked him once why there was both drip coffee and espresso, because it seemed redundant to you, and he'd launched into a spiel about the different effects of coffee and espresso and how he needed both to properly function. While it had been nice to hear him talk so much, you'd had to tune out to actually make the drink without screwing it up. So his voice had been more gentle background noise than anything else - one you were more than happy to hear.

After he pays - always with cash - you move to the bar. It's still before the morning rush, so you're doubling on register and bar while your co-worker finishes things up in the back. Actually, you're _always_ doubling when Spencer comes in, since he comes in at the same time every day (when he's around). So you know how to make his drink just the way he likes it.

You sink into the movements like an often-practiced dance. Add coffee and shot. While shot is pouring, steam half & half. Make sure the whipped cream is full and fluffy. Add vanilla after shot. Pour in half & half. Top with whipped cream and mocha drizzle (which you usually form into a smiley face or heart). Cover with lid (ruining your mocha decoration). Hand off to a smiling Spencer.

"Here you go," you say as you give the cup to him. You watch as he drinks to make sure it's good. He hums in contentment and grins at you.

"Perfect as usual," He says.

You give a tiny curtsey. "I do my best."

"Well, it's always good."

You grab a rag and clean up the mini mess you just made with his drink. "No case today?"

"Not yet," Spencer replies, still standing at the end of the bar, watching you clean. "But you never know. I could get a text as soon as I walk outside."

"When did you guys finish the latest one?" You throw the rag back in the sink and lean a hip against the inside of the bar, opposite Spencer. "Had to be the day before last, right?"

He looks at you curiously while taking another sip. "Yeah. How'd you know?"

You look at him like it's an utterly foolish question. "'Cause I didn't see you two mornings ago, but you came in yesterday."

"You notice when I don't come in?" Spencer asks, and he's got this soft awestruck expression, like he can't really believe it.

"Of course," you reply, shaking your head at his obliviousness. "I always notice. My mornings always seem to be missing something if I don't make your absurd coffee-espresso-cream concoction."

"I'll have you know--" He starts on another one of those lectures, but his phone chimes, cutting him off before he can begin. You try to hide your disappointment as he checks his message and looks back at you with a semi-sad expression.

"Speak of the devil?" You ask, and he nods.

"Unfortunately. I gotta go." Spencer sighs as he puts his phone away. "Thanks for the drink, Y/N."

"Anytime."

"I'll see you around."

"Use that big brain of yours to solve it quickly so I can make your drink again tomorrow!"

He laughs as he walks away and out the door, into the fall chill. "I'll do my best!" You hear him call before the door closes with another jingle.

Looking around at the empty coffee shop, you sigh and get back to restocking. Even though there isn't a guarantee that you'll see him tomorrow, Spencer always leaves you with a smile on your face, and a brighter day having talked with him.

* * *

"Hi, what can I get for you?" You look up with a fake smile, but it quickly becomes a real one when you see who's next. "Spencer! I missed you this morning."

"Hi, Y/N," he replies gently, and you have to lean close to hear him over the morning rush commotion. "Sorry I'm late."

"I don't care when you come in." Though that was a little bit of a white lie. "I just want to make sure you get the caffeine you need to catch those serial killers."

"Yeah, well, we got back late last night after finishing a case, and I slept through my alarm."

"Put away the bad guy?"

"Bad girl, actually."

"Ooh, interesting," you say as you ring up his order. "Tough case?"

"Surprisingly not." Spencer pays - with cash - and you hand back his usual change. As you brush fingers during the exchange, you have to hold back your shiver. "Quick and easy."

"Good. I'm glad you're back safe and sound."

He blushes and you stifle a giggle. "Me too," he stutters out.

As much as you don't want to, you can hear the grumbling of everyone lined up behind Spencer. "You're good to go," you say sadly. "You know where to get your drink."

"Thanks, Y/N," he replies as he edges away.

Before he can completely step away, you blurt out one last thought. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

He smiles softly. "Hopefully." And then he's gone and someone else is taking his place.

As you take the next orders, you can tell the exact moment Hannah - the person on bar - has picked up and read Spencer's order, because you hear a "What the damn hell?" quietly muttered. Trying not to burst out laughing, you focus back on your customer to get your mind off it - and Spencer.

But that's easier said than done, because two minutes later, Hannah is next to you. "There's some guy who's insisting you make his drink."

"Who?" You ask as you hand back some change.

Hannah just shrugs. "He's at the end of the bar."

You look and there stands Spencer, who waves embarrassedly at the end of the bar. You grin and turn back to Hannah. "Take reg for a minute. I'll be back."

She replaces you with ease and you make your way to the bar. Going through the motions, you make Spencer's drink how you always do. Capping it, you hand it to him. He's got a sheepish expression, so you just raise your eyebrows in response.

"She didn't make it right," he explains.

"We make it the same way," you reply, amused.

"Categorically untrue. You make it perfectly."

You smile. "Take care, Spencer."

"You too, Y/N."

And then you lose him in the crowd of people and go back to the register. As Hannah finishes with a customer, she asks, "Who was that?" She's got that lilt in her voice that tells you she thought he was cute and wants inside information.

"Spencer," you reply simply. "He's a regular."

"I've never seen him before."

You shrug. "Well, he's _my_ regular."

As you two switch places, Hannah looks at you with a raised eyebrow. You pretend not to notice and start to help the next customer. She lets out a snort at your avoidance tactic and goes back to the bar.

Once your customer has moved on, you glance towards the door, hoping to see Spencer's hair above the crowd. But he's long gone.

* * *

"Y/N?"

You know that voice.

"Oh! Hey, Spencer!" You call out from the back, appearing a few seconds later. You set down the pastries you had been moving to the case, wipe your hands on your apron, and walk to the register. "You're here early."

"Yeah," he replies. "I want to get to work early. Our current case has us all stumped and I want a head start."

As you ring up his usual, you're struck by how frustrated he sounds. And when you look up to get his money, there's a crease between his eyebrows that looks like it's been there for a while.

"Everything okay?" You ask tentatively, moving to the bar.

Spencer follows you. "Yeah, it's fine."

You can tell he's lying. But it's not your place, so you don't say anything, just let the silence permeate.

"Actually," he continues, "it's not."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He seems surprised. "Can I?"

"You're the only one here," you say, motioning at the empty shop. "You're more than welcome. If you want to."

"Well..." You hand him his drink and he does something he's never done before - he sits on a stool at the end of the bar. "We're not really sure what the evidence is telling us. It all seems so random. There has to be a connection, but we can't see it yet."

"Can you tell me about it?" After cleaning the bar, you lean your arms on the counter opposite Spencer, giving him an interested, serious expression.

He looks around the shop himself, and after confirming that it is indeed, empty, nods. "All of the victims are females in their twenties. The cause of death was strangulation, indicating a personal vendetta, though stab wounds were found on the torso. No signs of forced entry but signs of sexual assault. All of the victims were friends in high school, but grew apart after. We can't find a connection between them besides that." You hum, thinking through the information. Spencer goes on, "We predict a male unsub, but we can't tell why he's choosing these girls."

"The stab wounds," you ask, "where on the torso?"

"In the back."

You take a few minutes to theorize in your head before speaking again. "I don't think it's a guy."

Spencer's eyebrow crease grows deeper. "What do you mean?"

"Alright, I don't know anything about their personalities, but the attacker - unsub - _literally_ stabbed them in the back. Think about it: if the connection is high school, what do high school girls do best?"

"Bully," Spencer supplies, catching on. "And strangling them shows that the unsub personally hated them. Maybe they collectively bullied the unsub."

You nod, starting to smile. "And who do girls bully?"

"Other girls." Spencer wants to return your grin, but looks more confused. "But what about the sexual assault? That's usual a sign the unsub is a male."

"Well," you muse, "I don't know if you know this, but gay female serial killers do exist."

Something clicks in Spencer's mind and he looks at you with wide eyes. "That's it!" He jumps off the stool, leans over the counter, and hugs you. Awkward as it is with the bar between you, it's also pretty amazing. "Thank you!"

As he leans back, you hold out a hand. "That'll be $100. Consulting fee." His hand actually starts for his pocket, so you grab it with a laugh. "I'm joking, Spencer! I'm just glad I could help."

The hand you're holding clutches yours and he looks at you with a huge smile. "Well, you absolutely did. I think we can wrap this thing up now." He cocks his head. "How did you even come up with this?"

You shrug. "I used to be a girl in high school, bullied by other girls. I know how nasty they can be." He nods, but you can't resist giving another piece of personal information. "But I'm also a writer. Making connections is what I do."

"Well, I'll be sure to buy your book when it comes out."

You scoff. "As if. You'll definitely be getting a free signed copy."

Spencer's grin widens. "Good." Then he looks down at his watch. "Oh, I gotta run." He squeezes your hand one more time before letting go and picking up his drink. "Thanks for the help."

"I take it I'll see you tomorrow?" You hide your hands in your apron pockets to conceal their shaking.

"It's a date!" He shouts as he rushes out.

Shaking your head, you go back to the pastries.

* * *

A couple weeks later, you're working again. Spencer had indeed come back the next day, triumphant about catching the unsub and grateful for all the help you gave. He'd even mentioned it, and you, to his team, and they were apparently impressed. He'd broached the subject of actually paying you, but you'd waved it off - knowing that you helped was good enough.

It also renewed your interest in actually sitting down and writing a book. But you are at a loss for what to write about. Mystery seemed like a good place to start, but could you come up with a full-fledged plot, complete with twists and turns, red herrings and surprises? Besides, fiction isn't really your forte. You feel much more at home with nonfiction.

So you're stuck.

It's a tough day - you're frustrated by your lack of inspiration and progress. Even your visit from Spencer hadn't been able to fully raise your spirits, though it had made the feelings subside for a while. But they're creeping back up again.

Tiredly, you look up at the next customer, pasting on a fake smile. They order something semi-complicated and you're forced to make them slow down so you can catch everything. By the time they pay, both of you are properly frustrated, and they leave without even a "thank you." Rolling your eyes subtly, you gesture for the next customer to step up.

"Y/N?" You look up to see Spencer standing in front of you.

"Spencer? What are you doing here?" You sputter out, shocked to see him here in the early afternoon. As long as you've known him, he's never come back during the day, no matter how much you wanted him to.

"I um, I--" He's blushing and stuttering again, and it soothes your irritated soul. "I wanted to see you again."

 _That_ makes your irritated heart start to pound. "You did?"

"Yeah," he says, trying to breathe evenly. "You seemed...not entirely okay this morning, and I was worried."

"That's really sweet, Spencer."

"Is everything okay?"

"Um..." You trail off. You should just fake another smile and say everything's fine, but this is Spencer. Spencer isn't just another regular, and you don't want to treat him like he is. Your encounters mean something to you, and so he means something to you too. Even if that feeling is unrequited, you don't want to treat him like anyone else.

You look around and find Delia, your supervisor. "Is it okay if I go on my half?" You ask her. She nods amiably, so you motion Spencer to the side. Taking off your apron and hat, you cross from behind the counter into the front of the store. "Follow me," you tell him, and make your way to a secluded corner, far from the rest of the staff and patrons. It's a small space and Spencer has to sit pretty close to you, making your breathing quicken. He smells like pine and something fresh. Shaking your head, trying not to let that deter you, you set your things on the table and exhale.

"You can talk to me, Y/N," Spencer says softly and you smile a little.

So you explain to him your frustrations with your book and writer's block, and how you can't seem to find a source of inspiration despite feeling the need to write _something_.

"I just don't want to be working in a coffee shop my whole life, you know? I'm a writer. I'm supposed to be spending my time writing, not taking orders and making drinks and cleaning spills. But I don't know what to write about. And I don't know where I'm supposed to find it."

"I understand." Spencer comforts you. He hesitates, but finally touches your hand lightly. "It sounds difficult. But your dreams are good ones. And I think you should follow them. Even if it means doing something crazy."

"Crazy like going backpacking in Patagonia?"

Spencer chuckles. "If that's the kind of crazy you need. Or a different kind--"

"Like quitting?"

"Yeah, if that's what you want."

"It might be what I need."

He nods, not looking at you, his expression slightly sad. "Then you should do it. Even if it means I won't get to see you every day anymore."

You stare at him, surprised. His face immediately turns bright red and he begins to stammer, trying to explain. "I mean--um, I...well, I--"

His stumbling words are so cute that it takes a minute for you to stop him. "Spencer," you say softly, moving so your hand is resting on his. He instantly stops talking, looking at you with a slightly pained expression. You smile. "I love seeing you every day too."

His face somehow gets redder and he keeps opening and closing his mouth. He's at a loss for words it seems, for what seems like the first time in his life. You laugh, loving it.

Eventually, he regains his composure and clears his throat. "Well, then, Y/N...do you want to go to dinner with me sometime?"

You nod happily. "Of course, Spencer."

And his smile makes everything in the world right again.

* * *

_Three months later_

"Favorite case you've ever worked?"

"That's a tough one," Morgan muses. "Come back to me."

You look at the rest of the team. "Anyone else?" But they all seem to be deep in thought as well. The only person who isn't worried about it is Spencer, who's already answered the question. Actually, he's answered them all. He was the first person you interviewed.

He leans closer to you and mutters, "let them think about it." You nod, taking your hands away from your computer's keyboard and grabbing one of Spencer's.

You're on the BAU jet, en route to a case in Phoenix with the rest of the team. After quitting your coffee shop job and starting a relationship with Spencer, you'd found your inspiration after all: Spencer himself, as well as the whole BAU.

Your work in progress is a book about the team, this time from an outside perspective. It's half interviews, half observation. Spencer had loved the idea (still does), and once he'd read some of your work, insisted you pursue it. You were sure the BAU wasn't interested in having someone like you tag along on cases, sticking your nose into their business, but you were pleasantly surprised: the team owed you one after you helped with that one case, and had agreed that this was the way to repay you.

You're sure Spencer had some influence, but you're just glad it worked out.

So here you are, a "consultant" on your first case with them, both terribly excited and outrageously nervous. Though Spencer is a great source of reassurance.

"How long should I give them?" You whisper, but before Spencer can respond, Rossi speaks.

"I always like when we team up," he says slowly, still thinking about it. "Like with Jack Garrett and his unit."

You squeeze Spencer's hand and then let go to type down the information. "What do they do?"

"They investigate international cases that involve American citizens," Hotch explains. "We've worked with them a few times."

"Ooh," you say as you type. "I'd love to meet them."

"I'm sure they'd love to meet you," JJ says with a smile, and you blush. Spencer reaches out a hand and pokes your thigh, encouraging you.

"What was Spencer's answer to this question?" Morgan asks with a teasing smile, clearly fishing for help.

You start, "He--" but Spencer cuts you off.

"Ah-ah," he says. "You'll have to find out for yourself when the book comes out."

You roll your eyes. "There's no guarantee this'll even be published, Spence."

"In my experience," Rossi says with a wink, "people are always interested in serial killers and the people who catch them."

"See?" Spencer looks at you with a smug smile, but you can see the pride shining through. You shake your head, trying to brush it off, but loving it just the same. You've already toyed around the dedication page about it:

 _To Spencer -_  
for your advice  
for your encouragement  
for your reassurance  
and for your love.

_I love you._

**Author's Note:**

> maybe if you have an idea of something i could write, lmk on my tumblr @ sqmwilscn?


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